


Raw

by kairis



Category: Death Note
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4281090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kairis/pseuds/kairis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As if he didn’t need a reminder of just how badly he’d failed, every time Mello would see his reflection, he’d see the mangled patch of skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raw

**Author's Note:**

> I suggest listening to the song "Stronger Than Ever" by Raleigh Ritchie while reading this. It semi inspired me to write this (and I think it's a very, very good song to relate to Mello's character).

“Pretty raw.”

That was the comment about the new addition to Mello’s face that Matt made when they reunited all those years after that afternoon back at Wammy’s. Mello hadn’t even asked for his opinion, but he knew it’d come flying straight out of Matt’s mouth the moment all the seriousness of briefing him on the case so far.

“The scar, I mean. Makes you look pretty tough,” Matt said, speaking around the cigarette balanced in between his lips. He leaned back in his metal folding chair so that the front legs were lifted off the ground, blew a small cloud of smoke after taking a long drag on the cigarette.

Mello wasn’t sure how to respond, opting to excuse himself from the table under the pretense of needing to use the bathroom instead. Once inside the small bathroom of Matt’s undeniably dingy flat, his composure slipped with him as he slinked down to his feet against the tile covered wall. It’d been over two weeks. More than two weeks living with the mark of his complete failure splattered across half his face, and it was all he could do to keep his mind away from the fact. He’d lasted a while longer than he thought.  


He wasn’t a crier. No, he hadn’t cried in a long, long time. But he did tremble. He buried his face into his gloved hands, his whole body rocking. The skin of his left cheek stung from being touched so harshly, but Mello could care less about the pain now. It was incredibly stuffy in the room, his face burning an angry red to match the healing skin of his burns.  


_‘Raw’...right._  


Mello knew it hadn’t been meant in a malicious way, but the truth stung just as bad as his skin felt right now.  


_I feel raw right now. Not in the sense that Matt had meant it, though._  


Raw in the meaning that he was in so much turmoil and pain that he was completely miserable inside. As if he didn’t need a reminder of just how badly he’d fucked up, every time Mello would see his reflection, he’d see the mangled patch of skin. When out in public, conversing with people, even just buying simple things from the convenience store, that patch of darkened pink flesh would be the first thing people were drawn to about him. No longer was he going to be the intimidating authority figure. People would see the scar and recognize him for who he really was: the guy who fucked something up big time.  


“Hey.” There was a short rap on the door, and Matt’s voice rang out after it. “Mello, you okay?”  


“I’m fine.” Mello felt his voice raise pitch mid-sentence. There was no way Matt wouldn’t have noticed it. He drew out a frustrated breath.  


“Listen, I didn’t mean to bring up anything sensitive. I think the scar doesn’t do anything negative to your appearance–”  


“It’s not my appearance I’m concerned about,” Mello cut Matt off. He raised himself up from the tiled floor and opened the bathroom door.  


Matt stood directly outside the door. He’d done away with the cigarette, but Mello could still smell the lingering smoke. His expression of being slightly unsettled seemed genuine, with his narrowed behind the orange lenses of his goggles.  


“Then what are you concerned about?” Matt insisted.  


“I messed up, and now it’s all over my face.” Mello didn’t even try sugarcoating his explanation. He got straight to the point. “I’ll never be able to forget about it. I fucked up, and I lost the Death Note. I lost the most valuable asset I had in this case.”  


“You didn’t lose your life.”  


“Matt, I don’t _care_ about that.” Mello ran his fingers through his hair, as if crudely combing the disheveled locks could fix all the other problems he had now. “I’m losing.”  


“Then start winning.”  


Mello gawked at the suggestion. “How the hell do I just _‘start winning’_? I get that you’re a sappy optimist, but even you know that it’s not just that easy–”  


“Mello, for the love of god,” Matt pleaded in exasperation. “Do yourself a favor, and just throw out everything from before – what’s happened has happened and you can’t change it.”  


“Yeah, I get it,” Mello growled, gritting his teeth.  


“No you don’t. You don’t seem to get that you can turn this ship around and steer it in the right direction.” Matt took hold of Mello’s shoulders, gripping firmly. “You’re smart. You’re gonna figure something out.”  


Mello stood in silence. He felt Matt’s eyes boring into him, raking over every detail of his face in scrutiny.  


“You’re _Mello_. You’re the one who makes big explosions and takes action. You don’t let yourself get crushed willingly, and if you do get crushed, you just get back up again. That’s the Mello I knew, at least.”  


Mello wanted desperately to retort back, say that the Mello Matt knew when they were kids had long gone. He’d been left behind in Winchester four years ago, where he would play football with the other kids and stay up late to read and study. But it was hard to articulate.  


Matt took Mello’s silence as an opportunity to continue his speech. Instead of surveying Mello’s face, he stared directly into the young man’s dark eyes. “Every time you see yourself, tell that to yourself until you believe it. Tell yourself that you haven’t lost, that you’re going to do something, and it’s going to be important.”  


Mello knew it was futile to try and argue back with Matt. The kid was just about as stubborn as he was, hellbent on just bringing peace with his friend.  


“Fine,” Mello surrendered, reaching up to lift Matt’s hands from his shoulders. The hands, though, remained firm and unmoving.  


“I’m not moving until you tell me you think that it’s true.”  


“Okay. I am going to do something,” Mello repeated dejectedly.  


As promised, Matt released Mello from his grip.  


It felt ridiculous at first to say it. When they brushed their teeth together in the bathroom later that night, Matt forced Mello to repeat the mantra while staring at himself in the mirror before he’d hand over the toothpaste tube and Mello’s toothbrush.  


_I haven’t lost. I am going to do something, and it’ll be important._  


By the fourth night, Mello felt the words rolling off his tongue so easily it was almost as though he were saying the truth.  


When Matt was finally satisfied with that session, he surrendered the toothpaste and toothbrush to Mello. As routine, they both began the brushing, and Matt flashed Mello a toothy smile that was covered in foamy toothpaste.  


For the first time, Mello returned the gesture. Maybe he really had just needed someone to nail the truth into his head.


End file.
